Bad Girls Finish First (26 page)

“I'm fine.” Raven had reached the freeway and she hit the entrance ramp going eighty. “I just left Erika's house. Can you believe she tried to make a deal with me? She'll
let
Michael win the election if I give up David.”

“You did what! Raven, why didn't you wait and let me talk to her? Now all you've done is make Erika angrier!”

Raven talked right over Dudley. “And she implied that she used to be involved with Michael. That's just one more reason for me to smash her into the ground. I don't care if it was before I met Michael. When I finish with her, she'll have to move out of the state of Texas. I told her that I'm going to make sure she gets what she deserves.” Raven moved across three lanes without looking into her mirrors. She was going ninety and picking up speed.

“What did she say to that?” Dudley asked. He was upset with Raven but also with himself for rushing to her with the photos. There was nothing he could do now except to gather information and do damage control.

“I've got to give it to the tramp, she's ready for a fight, and so am I. It's been a long time since I've had somebody stand up to me the way she tried to.”

Dudley and Raven talked for another couple of minutes, then she clicked back to Minshew.

“Jerry?”

“Yes.”

“One more thing. You're a lousy fuck.” Raven hung up in his face.

23

“G
ood afternoon. Reverend David Capps' res—”

“Put that son-of-a-bitch on the phone!”

“I beg your—”

“Bitch, don't beg, just put his ass on the phone right now!” Raven screamed at Vera Jean, David's housekeeper. Vera Jean was known to use a few choice cuss words herself, and she definitely took issue with being called a bitch for no reason, but she was getting dressed for Saturday night service and she wasn't about to let Rev's problems steal her joy. She took him the phone.

David was also accustomed to a fair amount of profanity—but not since Stanky Sue had caught him in the garage with the girl next door had he been on the receiving end of such a vile, low-down tongue lashing like the one Raven put on him.

“Tell me another lie, David, and I'll catch a plane to Dallas right now and be there before evening service lets out. I'll show these pictures of you and your white piece of—”

Pictures!
There went David's hope that it was all a bad dream.

“Okay, okay. Just calm down. It's me, but it's not what you think.”

“What! It's not what I think! You must think I'm a fool. See you at church, lover.”

“Raven, wait!” But he was talking to the dial tone.

David called for Vera Jean. “I feel sick. Call the church and tell Reverend Greene I won't be back tonight,” he told her. It wasn't a lie. David had to drag himself to New Word earlier that day—an irrational conviction told him that everyone he came into contact with had copies of the pictures of him with Erika. Raven's tirade sealed the deal; he wasn't going anywhere near New Word. David would have canceled Saturday night and Sunday services, but that wasn't possible.

He didn't doubt that Raven was on her way to Dallas. She'd flown in once before and taken a taxi directly to the church. That day, they spent many unholy hours in almost every area of the church except for the sanctuary and the chapel. No matter what Raven offered, David had never let her so much as peek into those areas. That was where he drew the line.

How did Raven get hold of those pictures?
he wondered as he raced to the airport. He'd worry about that later. He didn't consider that Raven might be the one behind his troubles. Although he knew Raven had done some scandalous things in her time, David didn't believe she'd do anything to hurt him. Raven loved him.

As soon as Raven exited the terminal, David came up behind her, grabbed her arm, and squeezed. “You're coming with me.”

Raven gave him a cool look. “Or I could scream and cause a scene right here. Get your hand off me.”

David didn't let go, but he loosened his grip. “Raven, I'm
asking
you not to ruin my life. Please don't go to my church.”

Raven was accustomed to seeing lust or pride in David's eyes, but all she saw was fear and desperation. Her feelings, already all over the place, jangled some more.

“Where's your car?” she asked.

They went to David's home. David locked the door leading from the garage to the kitchen and turned to find Raven's open hand fast approaching his face. He grabbed her wrist.

“I'm not Michael,” he said. “Raise your hand to me again, and I'll hurt you.”

“You couldn't hurt me if you tried,” Raven said, and looking into his eyes she knew she was right.

The couple fought without touching, flinging bitter words at each other. Raven accused David of being a dressed-up field nigger sniffing after massa's woman. He told her he'd rather be with a beautiful, rich, white,
sane
woman than with a married sociopath. Raven broke dishes. David put his fist through a wall.

Then Raven smirked at David and said, “So this is what a false prophet looks like.”

David's face crumpled under the weight of Raven's accusation. She gave a voice to David's deepest fear—that he had become a fake, a man who lived by his passions rather than by The Word. How could he lead others to God when he'd lost the way himself? David abruptly turned from Raven, tears stinging his eyes.

Seeing how hurt he was, Raven stopped. “I didn't mean it. None of it.” She removed her coat and threw it across a kitchen chair. “David, look at me.” She wore a red wool dress that zipped up the front. She took off her dress and stood there in her heels, hose, and bra.

When he turned to face her, Raven said, “I don't understand you, David. How could you want Erika when you've got all this?”

David gently put his hands on either side of Raven's face, bent and kissed her. Within seconds everything they dragged around with them—their problems, their pride, their pretensions—was stripped away. They sank to David's kitchen floor, but for all the lovers knew, they could have been anywhere in the world.

After she caught her breath, Raven repeated, “How could you be with her, David? After what just happened between us?”

They were seated side by side on the floor, their backs resting against the kitchen cabinets. David looked at her and said, “You know how, Raven. I started seeing Erika before you and I got together. She chased me from day one. You and I are alike. If somebody gives us something, we take it. I'll bet you've never given yourself to only one man at a time.”

“I do now.”

David was surprised. “You do? What about Michael? What about all the freaky stuff you like to make him do?”

“Gave it up for you,” she said quietly.

David still couldn't believe all he'd taken away from Michael. “He told me once that I needed to find myself a woman like you. Who would have imagined . . .” His voice trailed off. He brushed his hand over Raven's hair. “And there hasn't been anyone else but me?”

“No.” Raven told the truth. Her transaction with Minshew took place before David. Since David, Raven didn't think she could abide the touch of another man.

“Damn.” David slung his arm around Raven's shoulder.

“Yeah,” she agreed.

“Let's do this,” David spun around and with his legs akimbo, faced Raven. He took her hands in his. “I promise you, from this day forward, I will not give myself to anyone but you. Do you promise the same thing?”

“I do.”

 

 

Michael leaned over and pawed Raven. She slapped his hand away.

“Get off me!” she whispered in her sleep and scooted to the far side of their king-sized bed.

Michael did as he was told. Lately Raven rejected his advances more and more. They hadn't made love in over a month. Michael was on his most servile behavior, but it wasn't enough to get Raven in the mood. When they did make love, she went through the motions, but clearly didn't enjoy herself. Lately she'd given up the pretense of being interested in Michael. Except, that is, when it came to his gubernatorial race.

Michael suspected that the cause of his sexual problems with Raven was their constant bickering over how to stop the flow of blood from his campaign. She wanted to use strong-arm tactics, but after what happened with Smotes, he wouldn't allow her to talk to anyone of importance. Michael knew that Raven wasn't accustomed to being told no, especially not by him. She didn't know when she married him that Michael had a dual nature—bedroom slave, boardroom king.

He looked at her, curled in a fetal position, her hair clasped in a thick, beautiful ponytail, and wished he could change his nature, or hers. But it wasn't happening. Michael was his own master when it came to politics, and even if Raven never let him near her again, he wasn't giving up control of his professional dream. Raven, Michael knew, would never change. No way, no how.

He got out of bed and went down to get the Sunday
Austin American-Statesman
. The news for Michael these days was usually no news, or bad news—in the form of another endorsement lost. Even though he was conditioned to expect the worst, Michael's heart skipped a few beats and his mouth went dry when he read the opinion page.
IS IMPOTENT GOVERNOR TEXAS' DESTINY
?

“Texas is a great state,” the article began. “A strong, virile (if I may use the word) state. Whatever Texas does, she does in a big way. Can we, given our size, our strength, and our dreams, afford to have as governor a man who is professionally impotent?”

The editorial continued, “I speak, regretfully, of Michael Joseph. Although it was only a short time ago that I used this page to endorse him as the best candidate for governor, events that have taken place since then cause me to question my own judgment. Senator Joseph began on a high note, but his campaign of late has been mediocre, his message unfocused, and his ability to hold onto key endorsements, pitiful. Senator Joseph even managed to lose the endorsement of the Rice Association. It's
rice,
for crying out loud!”

The opinion piece went on to recount every lost endorsement and lost vote that plagued Michael's campaign since the day Erika decided that he shouldn't be governor. The article was mean spirited and unbalanced. It was also factually accurate and stunningly effective. The best thing that Jerry Minshew had ever written.

 

 

Grace put on her favorite Boney James CD, prepared a bubble bath, lit her candles, and poured herself a glass of wine. She let her robe drop to the floor and stepped into the fragrant, steamy water. She didn't want to think about anything, but Michael was on her mind and she decided to soak, drink her wine, and deal with it.

They'd started out with so much promise, two good people who were deeply in love. Tears slid down Grace's cheeks as she recalled a young Michael, his naked body pressed to hers, whispering in her ear, “I've had sex plenty of times, but this was my first time making love.” She could feel his tears on her shoulder. She pictured the fear on his face during her rough labor with Evan, the way he'd wiped her brow and muttered nervous words of encouragement. Grace and Michael had shared so much: vacations alone when they'd left the boys with the Reeses, family reunions, professional successes and setbacks, secret dreams and fears. Michael and Grace Joseph had been true intimate friends.

But over time, their relationship changed. Michael demoted Grace from best friend to live-in acquaintance. From lover to infrequent semen receptacle. From one hundred to zero in what seemed to Grace like the blink of an eye.

Now Michael wanted her to be his friend again. “Good enough to be his friend, but not good enough to be his wife,” Grace muttered as she took a sip of wine. She lay there, getting a buzz from the wine, letting the tears and memories flow.
Please, God,
she prayed,
let me cry until I cry Michael out of my system. I know you can heal a broken heart—you said it in your word. Please, Father, let this be my last time crying over that man.

But crying Michael away wasn't to be. The doorbell interrupted Grace's soul-cleansing ritual. Still wet, she pulled on her robe and hurried to the door.

“Hello, Grace,” Michael said when she opened it. “We need to talk.”

 

 

“Can I get you a drink?” Grace asked Michael.

“Rum and Coke would be good.” Michael wandered around the room, looking at Grace's photos. “This place looks great,” he said. “You've always had a good eye.”

Grace started to make Michael's drink, but thought better of it. “Why don't I make us some coffee?”

Michael wandered over to the breakfast nook and watched Grace start the coffeemaker. “Remember when we used to do this? Sit in the kitchen, stay there until one, two o'clock in the morning, talking about our future. Those were good times.”

“Let's sit in the living room,” Grace said. Although she'd been revisiting the good old days when Michael arrived, she had no desire to go on a nostalgia trip with him. She placed the coffee on the table between them.

“Why are you here, Michael?”

Michael wiped his hand over his face.
He's aged,
Grace thought. “Don't know,” he finally said. “I felt the walls closing in on me earlier this evening, so I jumped in my car with no intention other than to drive around, release some stress. Next thing I know, I'm on the highway, headed to Dallas.” He looked at Grace. “To you, I guess.”

Michael put down his coffee mug and rubbed his temples. “Jerry Minshew's latest opinion piece drove the last nail into my coffin. Looks like I'm going to lose the election.”

“Yes, I read it this morning. I'm sorry, Michael, I know how hard you've worked. Maybe you'll lose this go-round, but you'll get to the governor's office eventually. Remember your first race for public office? Your opponent wiped the floor with you. But you're a fighter—you're going to be governor, if not this time, then the next.”

“You always believed in me, and after all we've been through, you still do.” Michael met he ex-wife's gaze. “I miss that, Grace.”

He stopped for a moment, and then admitted. “My career isn't the only thing falling apart. My marriage isn't what I expected. Raven and I don't really talk anymore and she's stopped—we don't share things like we used to.”

“I made a mistake, getting mixed up with Raven.” He hung his head. The notion that Raven might be seeing someone else crossed Michael's mind, but he didn't tell Grace. All he said was, “She's nothing like you. Not at all.”

Although she tried to fight it off, hope surged through Grace. These days she was praying for God to take Michael out of her heart, but in the beginning she'd prayed for Him to put her in Michael's. Every night for the first year after their divorce, every single night, Grace fell asleep imagining Michael on his knees begging her back. When she'd finally given up hope, it looked like her dream was about to come true.